


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Encounter in the Cistern

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, Come Marking, Consensual Sex, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), Flirting, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Morag Tong, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spitroasting, Thieves Guild, Threesome - M/M/M, background blackmail and rape, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn bonds with two of his fellow thieves.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Ravyn Imyan, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24
Collections: Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn and Ravyn Imyan





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Encounter in the Cistern

**Author's Note:**

> Another story in the Ravyn Imyan sub-series, this one is mostly self-indulgent porn (though they all have a lotta that), so it likely isn’t necessary to read the others. 
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy! Suggestions welcome, as usual.

Kordin sat on his bed in nothing but a short tunic, sipping mead and telling himself he was about to have a highly memorable night. Soon, very soon now, he and his handsome second-in-command would have Ravyn Imyan on all fours between them, plugging the sleek grey beauty from both ends. 

His Guildmates had been out on important jobs, Brynjolf in Whiterun and Imyan in Winterhold, and they should come to him any minute now. 

A week ago, sitting in a corner of the Flagon one afternoon, the three men had quietly agreed to meet and enjoy each other. Kordin had not missed the way Imyan’s sharp features softened when Brynjolf brushed his hand. And--when he thought no one noticed--the intent way the charming redhead stared at the ex-Morag Tong agent. 

At Kordin’s enemy. The Listener’s beautiful enemy. His beautiful bloody-handed whore.

It was by Nocturnal’s favor that the man had come into his hands so easily—there could be no other explanation. Why had he admitted his previous Morag Tong affiliation at all, when he knew the Brotherhood could kill him? He was not talkative, yet he’d wagged his tongue to exactly the person he needed to avoid. It could only be luck.

Kordin, of course, cared less about ancient wars, or scattered rival guilds with arcane and bizarre codes of “honor”, than about delectable grey flesh, in the here and now. He was grateful to be able to take advantage of circumstance.

So, hours after their meeting in the Flagon with the pretty redhead, Kordin had found Ravyn Imyan by himself. He was at the targets, doing some archery practice. 

The Dunmer turned at the sound of his footsteps.

“I just wanna watch you for a minute, handsome,” the Guildmaster had said, patting his leather-covered back, wanting to feel the firm flesh beneath, “Then we’ll talk.”

Imyan aimed a few more shots, mostly hitting dead center, his lanky muscles showing as he drew the bow. Kordin wondered if Niruin had been giving him pointers again. The two elves had seemed to like that entirely too much the last time he’d seen them together.

“You’re very good, Imyan,” he commented, stroking one strong shoulder. Imyan had looked at him with impassive jewel-red eyes and taken another shot at the pin-cushion target.

“Come with me,” Kordin had said, and then he’d led his subordinate to the bed he was sitting in now, pushed him down on his back, and kissed him hungrily. Kissed him to hurt.

“This changes nothing,” he’d whispered, into that sweet sharp ear, “You’re still my whore. Our deal still stands--you try anything, you say anything, and you go to the Sanctuary. And I’m only letting Brynjolf touch you as a favor. You aren’t to go to anyone else. Do you understand, elf?”

Now, there was a soft knock on the intricate wooden screen around Kordin’s bed.

“Hello, Guildmaster.” 

Brynjolf’s sensual voice stirred him, he couldn’t help that. The man was almost irritatingly attractive. For a human.

“Come on around,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face and smoothing his tunic so that it showed off his well-built chest and shoulders.

Brynjolf entered the sleeping area and closed the screen, grinning rather wolfishly at the sight of the other Nord in his skimpy tunic.

“Looking good, lad,” he said, taking in the Guildmaster. “Really good.”

He himself was freshly bathed and combed, wearing a set of fine clothes—tailored black pants and a brown embroidered coat. Why bother, when it was all coming off? Gods, he had even put on cologne. He looked more than good enough to eat, with his agile muscled build accented by the fitted coat, his shining dark red hair, and his lush pink mouth. But Kordin preferred a natural smell.

“Have a seat,” Kordin said, offering a bottle of mead, which Brynjolf accepted gratefully. 

The redhead took a few sips, quiet, his eyes never leaving Kordin.

“Great to see you—like this, I mean. No armor to hide that lovely body.” Brynjolf gave a soft, pleased smile. “I’m sure Ravyn won’t mind if we play a little while we wait.”

They set down their mead and their lips met, at first tentatively, then a bit more passionately as Brynjolf took the lead, cupping the back of his Guildmaster’s head and roughly but sensually probing his mouth. 

Kordin had to admit he was an excellent kisser. So good he hardly noticed as Brynjolf eased him down onto the bed and lay on top of him, pressing his own strong Nord body against Kordin’s. The Guildmaster could feel his colleague’s large erection against his budding one.

Brynjolf ran his hand up Kordin’s bare thigh and gripped him.

“Let’s get this big juicy cock nice and stiff,” the thief said, stroking his Guildmaster’s shaft in between more deep kisses.

Kordin’s prick quickly swelled under Brynjolf’s expert ministrations. He almost resented it.

“Can’t wait to share him. Can you?” Brynjolf asked, “You fuck his ass first. I wanna see those round grey cheeks around your handsome cock. And I wanna look at you when you come, see your pretty eyes. And his. Doesn’t he have the most beautiful red eyes?”

“He does,” agreed Kordin, wincing in pleasure as Brynjolf flicked his thumb over his cock-head.

“Let’s really make him squirm, lad,” the redhead whispered into Kordin’s ear, kissing his neck, making him shiver. “He’ll love us for it. I can feel your hot cock is up to the task.”

There was another knock at the screen.

“Ravyn?” called Brynjolf.

“Yes.”

“Come on and join us, beautiful,” Kordin said, before Brynjolf could speak.

Imyan stepped around into Kordin’s sleeping area. He too had bathed. Though Kordin was disappointed that he would not be getting his delicious unwashed scent, he was happy to see that the mer was barefoot and also wearing a sleeping tunic, with thin pants that clung to his lean legs. His drying hair hung lank around his strong angular face.

Brynjolf sat up and embraced the mer. Their mouths pressed together, savoring. After their long greeting, Brynjolf smoothly passed the elf to Kordin, who gathered him in and nibbled at his lips.

He decided to take a little control over the situation.

“Let’s get our clothes off,” he said, smiling widely, “No use prolonging the inevitable, is there, boys?”

“Not that I can see,” Brynjolf replied, using one large gentle and to tug at the hem of Kordin’s tunic and the other to stroke Imyan’s arm. “C’mon. Two handsome lads. I must be dreaming.”

Kordin pulled his tunic off over his head and tossed it aside. He watched Brynjolf undo his coat and shimmy off his pants, then expose his pale wide feet, as Imyan slipped off his tunic and tugged his own pants down his legs. The three undid their loincloths and piled them on the chest near the bed.

“Might get them mixed up,” Kordin laughed, stroking both of their backs, “Not that it’ll matter, after what we’ll be doing. Now, let’s get the elf on his hands and knees, shall we?”

“Like that idea?” asked Brynjolf, blue-grey eyes shining as they raked over Imyan’s naked grey body.

The ex-assassin nodded, his ember eyes focusing on the man, his prick thickening in his lap. Brynjolf kissed him boldly, tongue-fucking his mouth. 

“On all fours, Ravyn,” Brynjolf said as he pulled away, slapping the Dunmer’s bare thigh.

Imyan slid up onto the bed and presented himself just as he’d been told, legs spread and back dipped.

“He’s very obedient for you,” observed the Guildmaster, keeping his voice neutral, though jealousy pricked him through his excitement. 

“Isn’t he a good lad?” Brynjolf asked, stroking Imyan’s graceful back.

Kordin nodded, running a be-ringed finger down the warm cleft of the Dunmer’s perfect grey ass.

“You’ll need this, Guildmaster,” said the other Nord, offering a vial, kissing Kordin firmly. 

Kordin coated his first and middle finger and then opened Imyan, poking beyond his snug ring. Imyan writhed. The Nord reached under the mer and stroked his cock as he penetrated him and insistently scissored his fingers deeper and deeper into his passage. Brynjolf watched with hazily lustful eyes, jerking himself as if in a trance.

“Gods,” he said, “You’re both so...”

“I’m gonna finger you wide open, handsome,” Kordin growled, prodding at the elf’s warm insides, twisting his fingers. Imyan groaned, low and gravelly. 

“Mmm,” Brynjolf made an incoherent sound of approval, watching the Guildmaster’s eager fingers. 

He reached to pull one of the mer’s ass-cheeks aside so he could better see the dark ring swallowing the oil-dampened fingers. Kordin used his own free hand to push aside the other buttock.

“Gorgeous little hole,” Kordin said. Now more aroused than jealous, he resolved to enjoy himself. After all, it wasn’t every day he had time or opportunity to indulge in both man and mer at once.

“Oh, yes. It is gorgeous. Open him up good, lad.”

The Guildmaster added a third finger, wriggling the three digits against each other in the close little hole. This made Imyan’s lean ashen body shudder with some strong sensation indistinguishable by sight from either pain or pleasure.

“That hurt?” Kordin asked, keeping his voice soft.

“A bit. But I can take it,” Imyan said, glancing behind him at Brynjolf.

“You can take it very well,” Brynjolf replied, rubbing the Dunmer’s back again. 

Kordin spread his fingers deep inside Imyan and twisted sharply. The elf grunted and then cried out.

“You should spank him,” suggested the redheaded thief, eyes bright with desire, removing his hand from its place on Imyan’s spread buttocks. “Maybe it’ll relax his pretty ass a bit more. Loosen him up.”

The Guildmaster smiled at the idea, removed his fingers one at a time, wiped the excess oil from his hand on the bedclothes. He landed a sharp open-handed blow across both Imyan’s grey cheeks, making his hips rock forward. Meanwhile, Brynjolf reached beneath the Dunmer and took his cock in hand. At the same time he kissed him lightly on the back of his neck. Kordin smacked the elf’s round ass again and again, making his buttocks clench, pushing his member into Brynjolf’s hand. Imyan let out small moans each time he struck him.

“You like that, don’t you, lad?”

“Yeah, I think a little pain is good for him,” smirked the other Nord, continuing to give the mer steady slaps with his large callused hand. 

Imyan’s ass had begun to turn an arousing pink from the firm smacks, and he was thrusting into Brynjolf’s fist. Kordin liked the way his own hand-marks looked against the smooth grey, subtly branding the Dunmer as his. 

“That feel good?” asked Brynjolf in a low, excited voice.

Imyan nodded, looking back with shining red eyes at both Nords, but mostly at Brynjolf, who continued stroking his prick as Kordin laid sharp cracking swats across the already-pink buttocks, increasing the speed. He wanted Imyan to sting.

“A little rough,” remarked the redhead.

“Still hard, isn’t he?”

“Hard and leaking. I think he’s ready.” He took his hand of the elf’s cock to show Kordin the sheen of pre-ejaculate. “You ready, Ravyn?”

“Yes,” Imyan said, his voice thick.

“You’re going to suck me while he takes you, aren’t you?” Brynjolf asked. 

Imyan nodded again and Brynjolf caressed his loose dark locks. 

“Good lad.”

He shifted, knelt in front of the mer, his hand still twined in his hair. He guided Imyan’s head so his mouth brushed the tip of his heavy pink cock. Imyan opened his luscious lips and took the stiff prick in as the redhead tugged at his hair.

Kordin pushed on the small of Imyan’s back so that his marked rump stuck up.

“Open those fine legs, love,” he said, slapping the Dunmer’s inner thigh.

The ex-assassin obeyed, moving his knees apart even as his head began to bob on Brynjolf’s cock. The redhead’s eyes were locked on the elf’s face, his free hand now caressing one pointy ear. Kordin parted Imyan’s buttocks with both hands, stroking a thumb along the tender crack and over the glistening oiled dark pucker. He lined up the head of his prick with the slicked opening and pushed, with medium force. If his colleague had not been there, he would’ve shoved in to the hilt right away, made Imyan yell, shown him whom he belonged to.

As it was, he slid in past Imyan’s tight ring with unusual care, let it girdle his shaft as Imyan’s body relaxed, accepted him. The elf moaned around Brynjolf’s cock at the sensation of slowly being filled from behind. Brynjolf petted his head as it moved up and down, whispered, “Very good, lad, very good.”

Once Kordin’s balls met Imyan’s flesh, he kneaded his ass firmly and began lazy smooth thrusts in and out.

“You’re going to come on my cock, elf,” he promised, holding himself back, just rolling his hips, working the smaller body open a bit more with each movement. He was going to find his tenderest spot, hit it just right, then fuck him into groaning, come-soaked submission. Right in front of Brynjolf.

His hands wandered to the underside of the wiry body, one wrapping around the long dribbling prick, the other palming over the skewered man’s hard nipples. There was another muffled sound of pleasure around Brynjolf’s shaft. 

Kordin’s Guildmate looked at him and grinned.

“He feels so hot and delicious, doesn’t he?”

“Divines, yes,” Kordin replied, looking down at Imyan’s ass, his rhythm picking up as Imyan’s body grew more pliant in his hands, around his cock, as if he really wanted it, or had given up. Kordin wondered for the first time what he must think of his situation—quite literally caught between the man he wanted and the man who held power over him.

He wished he could taunt him for that, ask him again how he liked whoring himself for the Dark Brotherhood’s Listener. 

“You look damn good fucking him too,” the redhead sighed, meeting Kordin’s gaze, his mouth wet and eyes glittering like sun on the water.

After a few moments of steadily building depth and speed, he found that perfect angle and Imyan’s whole body shuddered. There was a muffled cry from his full mouth. Brynjolf laughed and tugged the Dunmer’s hair playfully.

“Got your sweet spot, didn’t he, lad?”

Kordin gave his whore repeated thrusts at the same angle, combining the stimulation of his hot passage with tugs on his elegant prick and light pinches to the tender little nubs of his nipples. The sight of the beautiful writhing back and the reddened ass wrapped around his cock, as well as the knowledge of how much Imyan must be focusing on pleasing the other thief with his luscious mouth, incited an aggressive lust. How badly he wanted to tear into him, fuck him hard enough to make him sob, make him take his mouth off Brynjolf and beg. But Kordin had a feeling his colleague wouldn’t approve if he made his “lad” cry. Brynjolf’s eyes were on him as he pumped, firmly but not too roughly, restraining his natural impulse to ream Imyan. 

He brought more stifled cries from the elf with his busy hands and the measured, deep fucking, keeping the angle right. He gently massaged Imyan’s plump balls, then slid his hand back up the shaft, smearing his thumb over the wet head. Imyan was leaking like mad, moaning into Brynjolf’s red bush. Both Kordin and Brynjolf breathed hard, taking their pleasure from the tight warm body.

“I think he’s close,” Kordin told his Guildmate. It felt like there was a tankard’s worth of pre-come coating his caressing hand.

“That right, lad? You going to come for us?” asked Brynjolf softly. 

No, he’s going to come for me, thought Kordin, snapping his hips back and forth, pushing Imyan’s shaft into his fist. With his other hand, he gave the elf’s nipple a soft but unmistakable pinch, rolled the hardened flesh between his fingers.

Imyan’s lovely prick began to pulse in his hand, and a very satisfying font of warm come covered his fingers. The ex-assassin let out another moan, loud and open-mouthed, almost letting Brynjolf’s cock go.

“He’s coming,” Kordin told his colleague, trying not to sneer as he gently fucked the mer through his climax. “And it’s a lot, too.”

Kordin showed him his seed-covered hand while Imyan was still leaking onto the bed.

“Let me taste some. Please.”

Kordin offered his hand and Brynjolf tongued the semen from it, sucking his fingers and mouthing all over his knuckles.

“Let’s both come on him,” Kordin suggested, slowing his thrusts and stroking hthe mer’s side. “And we can lick him clean.”

“Would you like that?” the redhead asked Imyan, carefully pulling out of the Dunmer’s gasping mouth. “Want us to get you good and dirty?”

“Do it,” Imyan said, catching his breath.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please do it, sera.” Imyan paused. “Both of you. Please.”

The Guildmaster pulled out cautiously, enjoying the suck of the lubricated hole as his cock left Imyan’s stretched ass. 

He pressed Imyan down so he was prone on the bed, long legs apart. Then he and Brynjolf crouched over him, cocks in their hands. Brynjolf almost immediately reached for Kordin’s.

“You do me, and I’ll do you,” he said huskily, kissing him.

They gripped each other firmly and worked to pleasure each other, almost competitive. Jerking with deft thieves’ hands, stroking dripping pink cockheads, cupping each other’s balls. Kordin tried not to look at Imyan’s lean grey body, or at Brynjolf’s muscled white one, tried to keep himself from coming first. The mer was watching them work with half-lidded eyes. 

Kordin couldn’t help but think of how he’d looked under him, the tough, haughty ex-Morag Tong agent taking a cock at each tight hot end--only one of which he actually wanted. 

He couldn’t help how painfully good his colleague’s hand felt, couldn’t help his rushing orgasm, didn’t even have time to tell Brynjolf to aim it at Imyan’s body. A stream of his come hit Brynjolf in the belly, another streaked across his forearm.

“Beautiful, lad, just beautiful,” the redhead breathed, kissing him as he took over jerking himself, pulling for only a moment before his own seed striped along Imyan’s broad grey back.

Kordin gritted his teeth a little. His colleague had marked the elf, and he had not. He reminded himself of how hard he had made Imyan come, the gorgeous sounds the Dunmer had made because of him.

Brynjolf kissed him again, with a strong tongue and wet lips.

“Wanna help me clean him?”

“It’s your mess,” Kordin said, with a half-smile, “But I’ll help.”

Both men bent to lick the come away from the smooth ashen expanse of Imyan’s back, making the elf squirm with languid pleasure. Then they arranged themselves on either side of him, and Brynjolf put an arm around the other two.

“Who’s in the middle next, lads?” he asked jovially, patting Kordin’s biceps, looking into his eyes, “How about you, Guildmaster?”


End file.
